


Married to the Job

by starrynightshade



Series: Home is a Person, Not a Place [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/F, Post Samaritan, Shaw and Root get married for the mission, Weddings, no other reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynightshade/pseuds/starrynightshade
Summary: Shaw fumbled around in her pocket for a second, then pulled out what she’d been looking for. “I need you to marry me,” she said, extending the slender silver band to the other woman.For once in her life Root seemed totally speechless.“For the mission,” Shaw clarified. “Our number is a wedding planner.”





	1. For the Mission

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】Married to the Job](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17182100) by [R_H_Felidae_Athena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_H_Felidae_Athena/pseuds/R_H_Felidae_Athena)



“Nervous?”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Please. This is hardly the most difficult number we’ve had.”

 

Zoe gave the hairstyle she’d created at the nape of Shaw’s neck a once-over. “I wasn’t talking about the number.”

 

There was a quick knock at the door before John ducked in. “The perimeter’s secure and Harold’s got surveillance on all the entrances.”

 

“What do you think?” Zoe asked, turning Shaw around for him to see.

 

Honestly, he probably spent more time appreciating Zoe’s little black dress and heels than he did the sheath of crimson satin Shaw had been zipped into, but that was fine by her. John was…John and Sameen honestly couldn’t have cared less if he thought the forty-five minutes Zoe had spent getting her ready had been worth it.

 

“You both look great.” He said after a moment, then glanced down at his watch. “You should probably get going.” He added, turning his wrist so Zoe could see the time.

 

“I’ll save you a seat.”  She promised before planting a kiss on his cheek and strutting out the door.

 

As it closed, John held open his jacket for Shaw to see. “I wasn’t sure how well-armed you’d be, thought I’d bring an extra gun.”

 

“I’m always armed.” She reminded him. Sure, knives weren't exactly her weapon of choice, but she was better than okay with them and they were easier to conceal than a gun.

 

There was another knock from the other side of the door and a chipper voice announced that it was time to go. Reese grabbed her right hand, placing it in the crook of his arm as he led her towards the door. “Let’s take a little walk, shall we?”

 

“I can’t go alone?”

 

“I guess, but apparently it’ll make for bad pictures if I let you storm down the aisle on your own.” He said, leading her towards the stairs.

 

“I don’t ‘storm’ anywhere.”

 

John cocked an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything else about it. As they reached the door at the end of the hall, he paused to straighten his tie and she found herself smoothing out her dress. Maybe she was a little nervous, but only because the threat to their number hadn’t shown up yet and she was armed with only a pair of throwing knives.

 

As the door opened Shaw convinced herself that the number was all she was worried about and tried to make her smile seem natural.

 

After all, it was her wedding day. 

 

* * *

 

 

**Two Days Ago**

 

“ _That’s_ your brilliant plan?” Shaw asked, raising her eyebrows at Harold.

 

“It’s the most practical way to go about it, Ms. Shaw.” Finch said pragmatically. “The best way to protect a wedding planner is to, well, plan a wedding.” 

 

Shaw let out a huff of frustration. “Yes, I understand that. What I don’t understand is why _we_ have to be the ones getting married. Reese and Zoe are well-rehearsed in the husband and wife routine. Hell, why don’t you and Grace do it? Technically, you’ve been engaged for years, haven’t you?” She wasn’t sure if the fact that she had thought he was dead for a large portion of that time made the engagement void or not, but she was hoping the argument would shift the focus of the conversation.

 

“You know how I hate to drag her into this.” Finch said, motioning to the general weirdness of the subway car. “And while Ms. Morgan is skilled at a great many things, she is not qualified to protect Ms. Pope. You and Ms. Groves fit the required criteria for this operation. Unless, or course, you would be more comfortable with Mr. Reese.”

 

“Fine. But I’m not wearing white!” She warned him, grabbing her jacket. “Text me that address, and have Root meet me there.”

* * *

  

Jessica Pope was remarkably ordinary. She had recently come to New York in hopes of becoming a successful wedding planner, and she seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it. According to Finch she had no disgruntled clients to speak of and her reputation, although still small, was favorable. “So basically she’s perfect?” Shaw asked, standing out in front of Pope’s office building. Root still had yet to arrive and Shaw was wishing she’d worn a jacket. It was the last full week of September and the temperatures had gotten unpredictable lately.

 

“I suppose it’s possible she could be our perpetrator, but she doesn’t seem to have much of a motive or desire to harm anyone. She gives to charity regularly, seems to be friendly with all of her neighbors, and is even gracious towards her competitors.” Finch said, his voice slightly tinny thanks to the earpiece.

 

“So we’ve got nothing to go on?”

 

“For the time being. Hopefully we’ll be able to learn more once you’ve cloned her phone,” he said. “Has Ms. Groves arrived yet? Your appointment is in four minutes.”

 

“Not yet.” She was just about to pull out her phone and call the other woman when a familiar black car pulled up next to the curb. “Never mind Finch, she just got here.”

 

Root turned the car off and slipped out of the driver's seat, keys dangling from her pinky and a coffee cup in each hand. “Sorry I took so long.” She said, closing the door with her hip and stepping up onto the sidewalk. “I thought it might help to bring you some caffeine. I felt kind of bad for keeping you up all night.” She added, leaning in so her lips were inches from Shaw’s ear as she handed her one of the coffees.

 

Root had been exceptionally pro-physical affection since Shaw’s return from Samaritan, as if she needed to remind herself constantly that Shaw wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. For Root that meant lots and lots of kisses. Hello kisses, goodbye kisses, kisses to wake Shaw up, and kisses to send her off to sleep. Root had practically developed a whole new language just by pressing her lips against Shaw’s skin. Really, Shaw couldn't complain since more often than not those kisses devolved into pretty blatant groping, which quickly devolved into dizzyingly good sex on the nearest horizontal surface of her (their) apartment.

 

Still, Shaw pretended to be annoyed as she scrubbed the other woman’s lipstick from her cheek.

 

“So, what’s the plan?” Root asked, putting some money on the meter and locking the car with the remote. “She’s being awfully mysterious today.”

 

Shaw fumbled around in her pocket for a second, then pulled out what she’d been looking for. “I need you to marry me,” she said, extending the slender silver band to the other woman.

 

For once in her life Root seemed totally speechless.

 

“For the mission,” Shaw clarified. “Our number is a wedding planner.”

 

“I see. In that case,” Root took the ring at slipped it onto her slender finger. “I accept, Sameen.”

 

Shaw turned to lead her into the lobby of the building. “Come on, we’re late.”

 

Root spent the elevator ride admiring her new accessory. “It’s not exactly traditional is it?”

 

“We’re supposed to be having a whirlwind forty-eight hour engagement. I don’t think Harry Winston fits into that equation.” Shaw pointed out. “And for the record, it is traditional. In Iran the wedding ring is supposed to be the more elaborate one.”

“So you’re saying I have to wait until Sunday if I want something sparkly?”

 

“If we’re lucky, this mission will be over by then and it won’t matter.”

 

Root smiled into her coffee. “If you say so Sameen.”

 

 

* * *

 

Jessica Pope’s office looked like a wedding catalogue had thrown up all over it. Pictures of smiling couples and floral arrangements littered the walls and there were what appeared to be a few months’ worth of bridal magazines stacked on the edge of her desk. Jessica herself looked like she belonged on the cover of one of them. The woman seemed to radiate joy from her petite frame, like the prospect of other people’s happiness made her glow from the inside out. Her blonde hair was in a tidy twist at the back of her head, and Shaw guessed from the way she hovered after standing to greet them that she’d worked as an assistant or secretary at some point.

 

“Come in, come in!” She said, coming out from behind her desk. “I’m Jessica, it’s so nice to meet you two.”

 

“Likewise.” Root had apparently turned the charm up a notch or six at some point between the lobby and the office door. “Samantha, but you can call me Sam. And this is my fiancée.”

 

“Sameen. Just call me Shaw.” Shaw tried to smile genuinely as she shook the number’s hand. It felt so strange to give her name to someone, to be so close to her actual self out in the open. Even with Samaritan eradicated from existence, her paranoia lingered, whispering for her to trust nobody and bury herself beneath lies if she wanted to live. She thought that maybe she would always live looking over her shoulder for security cameras and men dressed in black. 

 

“Sameen and Samantha? I imagine that must make nicknames a little complicated.” Jessica smiled.

 

Root giggled along and Shaw took the cue to do the same. “We make it work, don’t we Sweetie?”

 

Jessica got a giggle out of that. “Well, I’d offer you some coffee, but I see you’re all set. Can I get you anything else?” Pope asked, gesturing that they should sit down. Both of them declined and Jessica returned to her own seat. “So how did you two meet?”

 

Root immediately started going on about how a mix-up at her job as an insurance agent had brought them together, and Shaw was more than happy to let her take the lead while she cloned their number’s phone.

 

“So what can I help you with?” Jessica asked once the story had wound down.

 

“Well, we want to get married.” Root grinned, reaching for her hand under the table. “This weekend.”

 

Jessica’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

 

“Nothing big.” Root assured her. “Neither of us has much in the way of friends and family, but just a little something to celebrate with the people we care about. Do you think you can pull it off?”

 

Shaw could practically see the challenge register in the wedding planner’s eyes. “Luckily for you two, this is the one weekend this month that I don’t have another event. Consider me at your disposal.”

 

“Really?” Root’s face lit up and Shaw tried for another sincere smile. “Thank you so much!”

 

Pope had an hour before her next consultation and she seemed happy to spend it typing furiously away at her computer as she talked about venue options and dress shopping. “Oh gosh! I didn't even think about what I would wear. Do you think I’ll be able to find something this late?”

 

“I have a friend who owns a bridal shop not far from here. Saturdays are pretty busy for her, but I’m sure she’d be willing to squeeze you in first thing in the morning. Why don’t we plan on meeting there at eight?”

 

“That sounds perfect.” Root grinned. “What about you, Sweetie? Will you be joining us?”

 

Hmmm. Morning dress-up session with Root and the walking sunshine ray? Hard pass. “I’m all set actually.”

 

Root looked suspicious but let the matter go. By the time they walked out of Pope’s office she’d already booked them a venue, set up Root’s dress appointment, and convinced an officiant friend of hers to perform the ceremony. It had all been so efficient, Shaw almost forgot there wasn’t actually going to be a wedding.

 

 

* * *

 

As soon as they got back to the subway station Root flounced over to Finch’s desk to show off her ring. “Aren’t you going to congratulate the happy couple, Harry?”

 

She knew it was a medical impossibility, but Shaw thought for a moment that her eyes were actually going to fall out of her head she rolled them so hard. “Anything useful on our number’s phone?”

 

“I’m afraid not.” Harold said. “It’s mostly just mundane texts from her clients, outgoing phone calls to vendors, and a few messages from her mother. Her most frequently contacted number belongs to one Brian Loman of Connecticut. The two of them attended the same college together and started dating during their Junior year. According to their texts he plans to move to the city to be with her at the end of the year. I’ve looked into everyone she’s contacted in the last month and found nothing even remotely threatening or incriminating. For once, everyone is exactly who they claim to be.”

 

“Great. So we still don’t know who’s after her or why.”

 

Finch shook his head. “Sadly, no. Mr. Reese is keeping an eye on her for the time being. I trust the two of you will be able to coordinate a schedule for keeping watch of her when she isn’t with either Root or yourself.”

 

“How come Root never has to go on stakeouts?”

 

Finch paused, clearly trying to come up with a gentle way to say whatever he meant. “She’s more of a woman action. I’ve found that she can be a bit… destructive in her boredom.”

 

“Where did she run off to, anyway?” Shaw asked, glancing around to see that Root had slipped away at some point and left her to deal with the debrief alone.

 

“Sorry, I had to make a few calls.” Root said, strutting back in with her phone in hand. “Daizo is very excited, by the way. He should have a marriage license for us in no time.”

 

“You told the geek squad we were getting married?” Shaw groaned.

 

Root shrugged her bony shoulders. “Of course! And the D.C. team knows too. We need as many guests as we can scrape together, honestly. They’re very busy down in the capital, but they promised to make it on Sunday.”

 

The Machine, in Her infinite wisdom had directed them to coordinate (or at least maintain contact) with a second little ragtag team in D.C. and Shaw had a feeling that plans were in motion to replicate their system in other cities as well. Samaritan had been a hell of a wake-up call, and even Finch had become convinced that a good offense may be someday be necessary to keep the power of the Machine out of the hands of those who would abuse it. Once crippled to the point of near destruction, the Machine was now a step beyond its former glory. Root and Finch had worked nonstop for months, building up a Machine with Finch’s unfailing morals and Root’s forward-thinking attitude. The balance had seemed impossible to achieve and precarious to maintain, but it was working smoothly so far, and saving lives too.

 

Shaw pulled back on her jacket, getting ready to walk back out into the early October chill. “And what if we end up saving our number before then?”

 

“There’s no such thing as being too prepared,” Root replied. “Speaking of being prepared, why don’t we go have dinner before John calls you to take over babysitting?”

 

She _was_ pretty hungry. “Alright, but I’m cooking.”

 

 

* * *

 

Shaw was halfway through her third fish taco when she got the text from John to meet out front of Pope’s apartment building.

 

“Already?” Root asked watching her wolf down the rest of her food.

 

“I should be home around two.” She said through a mouthful of food. “Don’t wait up.”

 

Root said she’d see her when she got home and reminded her to wear a jacket. Shaw was halfway to the front door of the building by the time the word ‘home’ even registered.

 

Was this her home? Even as a kid the concept had been foreign. More often than not, home was whatever house she came back from school to, as long as her mother and father were there waiting for her. Maybe they had been her home all along.

 

And now home was, apparently, an oversized apartment in downtown Manhattan with her alias on the lease, but reminders of Root’s presence in every nook and cranny of the place — from her almond milk in the fridge, to her massive collection of books, to her fancy conditioner in the shower. Root was all over her home.

 

Somehow, at some point, Root had become the most permanent thing in her life. And the scariest part was that Shaw couldn’t even figure out when. There had been no proverbial turning point, just a slow and constant shift from whatever they had been to whatever they were now, like an unanchored boat that slowly drifts out to sea.

 

“Everything alright?” John asked as she slipped in the car. “You look… unsettled.”

 

“I’m fine, John.” She paused, considering wether or not she should let loose the request that had formed on the tip of her tongue. “You think Zoe’d be willing to do me a favor?”

 

John shrugged. “I don’t know. She seems to like you, it’s worth a shot. What’s the favor?”

 

“I need something to wear on Sunday, in case this mission isn’t wrapped up by then. Root’s going to some bridal shop with our number tomorrow, but we both know I’d rather remove my own liver than tag along on that shopping trip.”

 

“Not a fan of playing dress-up, Shaw?”

 

She thought about what Root had said regarding preparedness. “I’ve got a few errands to run. Look, do you think she can find me something or not?”

 

“I’ll ask. I’m sure I can find a casual way to work that into our dinner conversation.”

 

“What? Not suitable pillow talk, or are you guys just not into that sort of thing?”

 

He shot her a steely look. “I figured you’d want an answer sooner rather than later. I don’t even want to know what you and Root get up to afterwards.”

 

“Depends.” Shaw shrugged. She debated wether or not it would be worth it to go into details — if the hilarious shade of pink he was bound to turn really warranted the outing of some of her favorite secrets. In the end she decided that she didn’t want Reese to know about the ways she and Root came down from a post-orgasmic high together, but she nearly lost her train of thought down a rabbit hole of languid kisses and hot baths and the glint Root’s eyes got when she laughed in the dark of their bedroom with only the city lights outside to make them shine.

 

“I’ll be back at two. You need anything before I go?”

 

Shaw shook her head.

 

“Alright. Keep me updated.” He said, and moved to get out of the car. It was conspicuously devoid of both dirt and weapons so Shaw figured it was one of Finch’s.

 

“Will do. And John?” He paused to give her his attention. “Don’t let Zoe try to put me in white.”

 

“Anything for the bride-to-be.” And with that he shut the door.

 

Shaw didn’t even dignify the comment with a proper eye roll, just picked up his binoculars and settled into her seat for the next few hours. It was going to be a dull shift. She couldn’t wait to get back home.

 

* * *

 

 

Jessica Pope was unbearably boring. After fixing herself dinner (salad, blegh) she took her toy poodle for a walk, then settled in on her sofa to watch some sappy movie on netflix and answer some texts from her other clients. When that was over she took the dog out for another quick piddle and then headed back inside for a shower. By the time she crawled into bed at eleven Shaw was half-dead from pure boredom.

 

Not a single person seemed to have it out for this woman. Even the people she passed on the street seemed to reflect her joyful energy back at her, returning her smile as she walked by them. Maybe she was the perpetrator after all.

 

“Nothing?” John asked, sliding into the seat next to her just after two in the morning.

 

“She’s officially the most boring person in New York. Finch didn’t find anything on her phone or computer?”

 

He shook his head. “Not even a bad yelp review.”

 

“Well, if someone shows up to kill her in her sleep, give me a call.” Shaw said, handing over the binoculars.

 

“Will do.”

 

When Shaw got home all of the lights were out. She kicked off her boots, hung up her jacket, and headed straight up the stairs to the loft. Root was fast asleep with her hands tucked under her chin and a serene look on her face. She must have been reading before bed, her glasses were folded up on top of the book on her bedside table.

 

She took the time to duck into the bathroom and brush her teeth, then stripped down to her panties and shrugged on a roomy old tee.

 

“How was the stakeout?” Root asked sleepily, rolling over to leech off Shaw’s body heat as soon as she slipped under the covers.

 

Shaw had learned the hard way that refusing to allow Root’s cuddling meant spending the night trying to steal back the covers and freezing her ass off. It was best to just let Root wrap an arm around her waist and tangle their bare legs together beneath the sheets. “Pope is the most boring person in this entire city.”

 

Root pressed a kiss to the top of her shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to shoot anyone.”

 

“There’s always tomorrow.” She said, remembering her errands. “Get some sleep Root.” She wasn’t sure what Root mumbled after that, but it sounded generally lighthearted. She was too tired to worry about it.


	2. The L Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are no people like you and me, Sameen. That’s why we work."

“So what’s your fiancée up to this morning?” Jessica asked. Root could hear her typing something into her phone from the other side of the changing room door.

 

“Zip me?” She asked, turning around so the attendant from the bridal shop could close the dress up around her torso. “Sam had a few errands to run, but she’s meeting us for lunch.” Root said, a little louder so Jessica could hear her.

 

The attendant, Bianca, made a few adjustments to the way the dress draped over her frame, then gave her the all-clear to step out of the changing room and onto the pedestal in the main area of the boutique. The number’s friend had come through and opened the shop an hour early, just for her. As such, there were only two people sitting in the chairs provided, waiting to help her choose something to wear the next day.

 

“What do you think?” She asked spinning slowly.

 

“That is a great silhouette on you.” Jessica said.

 

Root looked over to the other chair. “Aunt Grace?”

 

Adjusting to having Harold’s former fiancée in their lives had been far more seamless than Root had anticipated, especially after the struggle Harold had put up to keep himself hidden from her. She took a bit of pride in having been the one who finally convinced him that he didn’t need to punish himself anymore. To her credit, Grace took everything in stride, from the sudden reappearance of her supposedly dead love to the revelation of the work he really did. Apparently coming back from the dead gave him a free pass on quite a few things.

 

“You look lovely.” The redhead agreed.

 

“You’ve said that about all of them.” Root reminded her, turning to face the massive mirror on the wall.

 

“That’s because you look lovely in all of them.”

 

Root replaced the appraising look on her face with an affectionate grin for her ‘aunt’. “Thank you.” She turned to the side and pretended to analyze the dress for another moment. It was fitted at the top, with a full skirt that fell to her shins. “I’m not sure I love this style.” She said after a moment.

 

“What about something with lace?” Bianca asked. “I have a dress in the back that would look great on you. We just got it in this week.”

 

“I’m open to anything.” Root said and Bianca excused herself to find the dress in question.

 

Jessica took the opportunity to flick through their to-do list for the morning. “Once we’re done here we need to hit the florist’s and then I’m taking you to this great bakery I know. The guy who owns it is a genius with cake.”

 

“Mmm… sounds tasty.” She turned to Grace. “Why don’t you see if Uncle Harold would like to join us?”

 

Grace pulled out her phone just as Bianca returned. “Here it is. Do you want to try it on?”

 

“Definitely. Excuse us, ladies.”

 

Bianca helped her slip into the new dress, slowly working her way up the row of little round buttons on the back. “So, you’re really getting married tomorrow?”

 

“That’s the plan.” She grinned. “It’s just time, you know? I don’t want to wait anymore.”

 

The attendant sighed. “That is _so_ romantic. You guys are going to be together forever.”

 

That seemed like a pretty risky bet for someone she had met less than an hour ago to make. Still, she remembered what Shaw had said about selling the whirlwind wedding. “I think you’re right.”

 

“You’re all set.” Bianca told her, finishing off the final button.

 

When she emerged from the dressing room this time, Jessica and Grace both started fawning over the outfit. “You look perfect.” Grace said. Root could've sworn she saw her wipe a tear from her eye, and she honestly didn’t know if it was just Grace committing to her role or if the older woman had actually grown that fond of her over the past few months. It could have been either one really.

 

“Wow! This one really suits you,” Jessica agreed. “It even fits like a glove.”

 

Root turned this way and that in front of the mirror and realized that it was true. The white lace clung to her body in all the right places, ending just above her knee. The top ran in a straight line across her chest, with short lace sleeves that rested off her shoulders and left the scar Shaw had given her on proud display. Even with her pale skin the patch of white was clearly visible, but nobody seemed bold enough to ask where it had come from. Shaw would know though, Shaw loved that scar.

 

Root turned back around. “I think this is the one.”

 

Grace snapped a picture, Jessica congratulated her, and Bianca asked if she needed anything else. The shop had a collection of shoes and accessories stocked against the back wall, but Root declined. She’d stolen a very expensive jewelry set from a drug trafficker about a month before that would go perfectly with a pair of blood red heels she’d been saving for a special occasion.

 

When she was back in her street clothes Bianca zipped the dress into a garment bag, which Root exchanged for one of her credit cards.

 

“Harold just texted me back.” Grace said as she put away her wallet. “He says you look very elegant, and that he and John will be joining us for lunch.”

 

“Who’s John?” Jessica asked.

 

“Sameen’s… brother.” Root supplied. “Now, I think you said something about the florist’s?”

 

* * *

 

“Hey Sweetie, you busy?”

 

Shaw fired off another round from her handgun. “Just finishing up a few errands.” She took another shot and heard a groan of pain as a sixth body hit the ground of the warehouse.

 

“Sounds like you’re having fun. We’re on our way to the bakery right now, anything you’d like to request?”

 

She made her way past the men writhing in pain on the ground to the cases they had carried into the exchange site with them. “You know what I like.” She realized belatedly that that should bother her. Shaking her head, she flipped open the first case and reminded herself that it wasn’t hard to choose desserts for someone who liked everything.

 

“The boys are meeting us for lunch at twelve thirty. You can still make it, right?”

 

Shaw ran her fingers over the black guns nestled in the foam of the briefcase. _Nice._ According to her watch she had just under an hour to make it to the restaurant they’d agreed on. With the time constraints in mind, she unlatched the second case and surveyed its contents carefully. _Very nice._

“I’ll be there, just one more stop to make.”

 

“Perfect.” Root signed off and Shaw clicked off her earwig.

 

“Well, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you gents, but I need to be on my way.” She said, snapping both cases closed and latching them tightly. “Don’t worry, the FBI should be here to clean your asses up shortly.”

 

With a briefcase in each hand she made her way out of the warehouse, leaving nothing behind but the sound of her boots against the ground.

 

 

* * *

 

Shaw barely made it to lunch on time. After finishing off her to-do list for the morning she’d had less time than anticipated to trade out her dusty and singed attire for a simple black dress and rush over to the restaurant.

 

Finch must have picked the place because Root and Grace were the only other people who seemed unfazed by the white tablecloths and excessive amounts of cutlery. Shaw had been the last to arrive, but Root stood up to greet her with a kiss when the hostess showed her to the table. She ended up between her ‘brother’ and her ‘fiancée’ at the table, across from Finch who was absolutely charming the pants — or rather the pencil skirt — off of Jessica.

 

“So, how did your errands go?” Root asked as they perused their menus.

 

Shaw was excited to see an impressive selection of steaks listed across from the wines. Root was already sipping a glass of something dark and sweet smelling, darting her tongue out over her bottom lip after every swallow. “I crossed off everything on my list. How about you?”

 

“Let’s just say you’re going to be blown away tomorrow night.” She said, following the statement with one of her dopey two-eyed winks.

 

Root’s confidence was enough to make her a little disappointed that she’d probably never actually get to see her in the dress. Maybe Shaw could convince Root to model it for her sometime, preferably with nothing underneath.

 

John leaned over in his seat and rested his arm on the back of her chair. “I talked to Zoe. She promised to handle your request.”

 

Perfect, that would be one less thing for Shaw to worry about. “Tell her I appreciate it.”

 

“You can tell her yourself. She’s decided to appoint herself maid of honor. I couldn’t talk her out of it.”

 

“Just make sure she’s got that taser in her purse.” Shaw muttered before straightening up.

 

Root had laced her fingers through Shaw’s and pulled their joined hands onto the tabletop for everyone to see. It was too late to yank her arm away now. Resigning herself to a few minutes of mild PDA, she rejoined the conversation Root was having with Jessica about what still needed to be done to prepare for the wedding that was never going to happen.

 

It didn't do much to distract her from the glint of white gold she caught on Root’s ring finger every time she shifted her wrist a tiny bit to rub her thumb over the back of Shaw’s hand.

 

* * *

 

By the time Shaw parted ways with their number it was already five o’clock. She’d spent all afternoon with the human ray of sunshine and wasn’t looking forward babysitting her from afar for the next six or seven hours. She was watching Jessica leave one of the venues she frequently booked for her clients when someone knocked on her passenger side window. Her first thought was that she was parked illegally and prepared herself to charm her way out of a ticket, but to her surprise it was Reese standing outside the vehicle.

 

She unlocked the doors so he could slide into the passenger’s seat. “Let me guess, Finch sent you to remind me not to shoot anyone.”

 

“Actually, I’m here to take over. Go home Shaw. Have some dinner, go to sleep.”

 

“What, you’re just gonna sit in your car and watch her for the next twelve hours?”

 

“Fusco and I are taking shifts. You’ve earned the night off.”

 

The thought of a hot shower and a good night’s sleep _was_ pretty tempting. “You sure?” She asked. Shaw couldn’t just let him take over without putting up a little bit of a fight.

 

John reached for the door handle, preparing to go back to the car he had arrived in for watch duty. “Go home Shaw.” He repeated. “Oh, and say hello to your fiancée for me.”

 

He was lucky he was quick. Still, despite the teasing Shaw found herself unusually relaxed as she made her way back to the apartment through the New York traffic. She should have been on edge, they were no closer to finding the threat to their number than they had been twenty-four hours ago, but she trusted John (and Fusco, though she’d never admit it) to take care of things in her absence. Plus, if anyone could figure out who was threatening their number, it was either Root or Harold.

 

If someone had told her ten, (or even five) years ago that she would be this comfortable with the hodgepodge group she’d begrudgingly come to think of as her family, she would have probably punched them in the face and laughed the whole time. Now though, they were like parts of a machine, an old fashioned machine with moving bits and rust and cogs. Sometimes the gears ground and there were definitely a few places precariously repaired, but it still worked. They always pulled through when it counted.

 

Her musings distracted her for most of the ride home. When she walked through the door, she found Root settled on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table and her laptop resting on her legs. She’d ditched the green dress she’d been wearing in favor of an old grey sweatshirt and a particularly well-loved pair of sweats, and swapped her contacts and perfect hair for glasses and a half-assed bun at the top of her head.

 

It wasn’t an unusual sight, but it still made Shaw’s stomach do an uncomfortable swooping thing.

 

“How did it go with Jessica?” Root asked, not looking up from her screen as Shaw kicked off her shoes.

 

“Good. Too good, actually. Any idea what the threat is yet?”

 

“That’s Harold’s jurisdiction at the moment.” She said, fingers still flying over the keyboard. Shaw noticed she was still wearing her engagement ring. Root said it was because she’d forget about it if she took it off, but Shaw wondered if she had other motives.

 

She placed a hand on the top of the computer, folding it shut. “You won’t be needing this then,” she said, picking it up and setting it gently on the table. Root watched her move it before looking up at her as if actually realizing she was there for the first time.

 

“Hi,” she said, letting a little grin form across her mouth.

 

Shaw tossed one leg over Root’s, thankful she’d changed back into her jeans after saying goodbye to their number for the day. “Hi yourself,” she agreed and settled onto Root’s lap. There were a few strands of hair falling free of their confinement and Shaw let herself play with one for a moment, wrapping it around her finger while Root’s hands settled on her hips. “You busy?”

 

“Not in the slightest.” Root said, and her little grin turned wolfish before being overtaken by Shaw’s lips on hers.

 

Shaw had never really been a huge fan of making out, but as was the case with a lot of things, Root had changed her mind on it. The thing was, kissing Root never got boring. Sometimes she said more with her tongue in Shaw’s mouth than she could ever have done with all of Finch’s beloved multisyllabic words. Root’s body was its very own language and Shaw had been having the time of her life trying to learn it. She still wondered sometimes if she would ever be fluent in all of Root’s little squeaks and sighs, if Root had already catalogued Shaw’s own vocabulary of growls and groans. It seemed impossible, despite all their practice.

 

“Is this what you want?” She honestly hadn’t meant for it to slip out, but at this point she was half surprised Root hadn’t tasted the question on her lips.

 

Root’s hands stilled where they had started making their way under the hem of Shaw’s shirt. “What do you mean?”

 

Fuck if Shaw knew what she meant, she hadn’t intended to ask the question in the first place. “Nothing.” She said, trying to play it off and distract Root’s curiosity with another kiss.

 

“No, tell me what you meant.” She said, leaning back so she was out of reach.

 

“Really, it’s nothing. I just…” Why was this so hard to spit out? “This whole wedding thing. I didn’t know if you had ever… considered it.”

 

“Considered getting married? I don’t know. I mean, the idea is sweet in theory, but it can also go horribly wrong. Committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life? That takes an awful lot of loyalty.”

 

Loyalty? That certainly wasn’t the L word Shaw had been expecting. “You’re saying that’s all it takes? Loyalty?”

 

“Believe me, I’m no expert, but I think it’s part of the equation.”

 

“But what about love and stuff?”

 

“That’s not what this is about, is it?” Root took a deep breath. “Look, Sameen, I’m not going to pretend to know what you feel better than you do, but I do think you’re capable of more emotion than you let on. You aren’t devoid of feelings, they just look different on you.”

 

Shaw removed her hands from their spot resting on the back of the couch and ran them over her face. She couldn’t help but think of what Gen had said to her the last time they spoke in person. “You don’t get it, do you? This won’t fix me. Doing all the stuff that normal people do isn’t going to make me normal, it just makes me an imposter. People like me can’t give people like you what they want.” She waited until the silence was too pronounced to avoid before looking up at Root.

 

“There are no people like you and me, Sameen. That’s why we work. And there’s nothing about you that needs fixing, but this,” she motioned between the two of them, “is a two-way street. Do you honestly think I’d be here right now if I had even a shred of doubt that you love me? I would never ask you for normal because that’s not what I want. To be honest, we couldn’t pull it off anyway. All I want from you is whatever you’re willing to give me, and that’s completely up to you.”

 

“So if I asked you to marry me right now…”

 

“I would say yes.”

 

“And if I never asked at all?”

 

“Then I would hope that I still get to wake up next to you as often as possible until the day I die.”

 

Shaw searched her face for some straggling wisp of a lie. “It really doesn’t matter to you?”

 

“You matter to me, Sameen. Everything else is just icing on the cake. Whether or not we make it down that aisle tomorrow, I’ll still be yours. Getting to play dress up and make Harold blush would just be an added bonus.”

 

Part of Shaw thought that she should be more concerned about the permanence of what they were discussing, but Root made it sound so… logical. She had to admit, waking up next to Root every morning, sharing showers with her, watching movies together after a long day of shooting people, didn’t sound bad at all. Plus “’til death do us part” sort of held more weight for people who got shot at on a regular basis.

 

“Okay.”

 

Root tilted her head a little, eyebrows drawing together slightly. “Okay, what?”

 

“Marry me. Duh.”

 

“But I thought you-” Root started, but Shaw cut her off with another lingering kiss.

 

“Just say yes, Root.”

 

She had that stupid affectionate look on her face when she nodded her head slightly. “Alright, yes.”

 

Shaw nodded too, a more businesslike gesture than Root’s, signaling that the matter was settled and they could move on to other things.

 

“So,” Root’s hands started working their way under her shirt again, skimming the top of her hips then the bottom of her rib cage as they went, “is this the part where I carry you upstairs so we can celebrate our engagement?”

 

Shaw snorted. “Please, we both know you can’t carry me. Besides, it’s dinner time and you need to eat something.”

 

“But I’m not hungry.”

 

“Eat your dinner, and I’ll let you be dessert. Okay?”

 

Root’s grin was just a step away from a full-blown smirk. “Whatever you say, Sweetie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the final chapter! Please let me know your thoughts below. Until next time!


	3. A Beginning and the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt like time warped as the door opened, slowing to a near stop. In the back of her mind she recognized the small cluster of their friends, all standing to face her as she and Harold made their way to the other end of the room. She was vaguely aware of the sun beginning to dip below the tops of the buildings outside, and the way that the lamps and candles in the room made it almost unrecognizable. And then her eyes locked with Sameen’s and even the Machine seemed to have ceased existing for a moment.

When Shaw woke up, the sun was just starting to bleed shades of blue into the grey sky.

 

“Rise and shine, Sam. We’ve got a busy day today.” Shaw sat up to watch Root sort through her underwear drawer in nothing but a smile. It was completely unfair, Shaw thought, that she should be allowed to look like that when Shaw had horrible bedhead and (from the feel of things) a little bit of drool drying on the corner of her mouth. As usual, Root’s hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders and her eyes were bright despite the fact that she had yet to receive her coffee fix for the morning. She looked like a Roman statue come to life, not like a gun-wielding hacker who had been thoroughly fucked barely eight hours before.

 

 _Completely unfair,_ Shaw decided and rolled out of bed. “I need a shower.”

 

Shaw had to admit that ~~her~~ their completely unnecessarily huge apartment did have several perks, not the least of which was a very large shower. She turned the water on, rinsing her hair beneath the hot spray.

 

She was acutely aware of Root shuffling in behind her before a pair of long arms began invading her space. “Good morning.”

 

Shaw hummed in agreement, reaching for her shampoo while Root finished her affectionate groping. Shaw got her first good look at the other woman when she went for her loofah. “These are gonna last a while.” She noted, tracing her fingers over the trail of purple that ran from Root’s ribcage to inside of her hip bone.

 

“Don’t worry,” she lined her fingertips up with a collection of bluish ovals on Shaw’s thigh and grinned, “it looks like you’ve got your own souvenirs.”

 

Much as Shaw wanted to stick around and see where this encounter was headed, someone needed to go relieve Fusco of babysitting duty. She gave Root a quick slap on the ass for good measure before finishing off her shower with strict efficiency and reaching for a towel.

 

Root was just getting out of the shower by the time Shaw left, so she flicked on the coffee maker on her way out the door and shot Root a text from the elevator.

**Coffee’s brewing. See you at 7.**

She was just leaving the building when Root’s response came through.

 

**This is why I love you. See you tonight. ;)**

Shaw typed a quick message to Zoe, then tucked her phone away. It was silent all the way to Pope’s apartment.

 

When she got there, the number was already standing on the steps of her building with her phone in one hand and a coffee in the other. She immediately lit up when she realized Shaw was there. “Excited for the big day?” She asked.

 

Shaw nodded, following Pope to her car and sliding into the passenger’s seat. She glanced into the rearview mirror just in time to see Fusco driving off. “So where are we going first?”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time five o’clock finally rolled around Shaw had followed Pope to the baker’s, the florist’s, a microbrewery, a restaurant in Queens, and the office building where the wedding was being held. As John helped them set up cupcakes on a table at the back of the top floor conference room, Pope explained that she had been hired by the building owner to plan his daughter’s wedding and he’d agreed to loan her the space for the day since the floor’s old tenants had moved out the month before. Most of the rooms were small offices, but the conference room in the corner of the building was the perfect size for what they were planning. Plus, Shaw had to admit that the view was pretty great.

 

They were starting to arrange chairs for the ceremony when Zoe came strutting in with a garment bag slung over her shoulder. “Sorry John, I’m here to steal your sister.”

 

“I knew she’d turn you eventually,” he said, feigning dejection. “How am I going to break the news to her fiancée?”

 

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Zoe said, grabbing Shaw’s arm and dragging her out of the room. “Dinner is waiting for you, you can eat while I do your hair.”

 

“You brought me food _and_ offered to be my personal stylist for the day? Root and John better watch out, I might just run off with you after all.”

 

Zoe laughed, pulling her into one of the offices. “Sorry Shaw, even you can’t turn me.”

 

“Eh, worth a shot.” She shrugged. “I’m taken any way, it never would have worked out.”

 

“So, care to explain why the jeweler seemed so nervous when I went to pick this up for you?” Zoe asked, procuring a small velvet box from the stuffed leather bag hanging from her arm. “Nice choice, by the way. Very impressive.”

 

“Thanks. The guy owed me something of a favor, now seemed like a good time to cash it in.” There was a paper bag on the desk with a cheeseburger inside, which Shaw was happy to sink her teeth into. “Mmmm. Are you sure I can’t convince you to run off into the sunset with me?”

 

“Not as long as John’s still an option.”

 

Shaw swallowed another bite and winced at the mental image of Zoe and John together. She’d never really been squeamish about sex, but for some reason thinking about John in that sense made her unusually uncomfortable. “Ugh, spare me the details.”

 

“Root dropped a few hints about red being the color of the day.” Zoe said, hanging up the garment bag and unzipping it to reveal a flash of crimson.

 

Shaw rolled her eyes. Of course Root had known Zoe was picking Shaw’s dress, there was little Shaw could hide from her with the machine blabbing everyone’s secrets in Root’s ear. Just once, she thought, it would be nice to catch her off guard.

 

“I was surprised you two decided to actually go through with this,” Zoe said. She had sectioned Shaw’s hair off and started shoving bobby pins into it while Shaw ate.

 

She swallowed another bite of her burger and shrugged. “Figured we were already about as married as we could get without the paperwork. Besides, neither of us is ever going to find someone else insane enough to deal with us on a long-term basis, so…” She shrugged again.

 

“Still, I figured Harold and Grace would beat you guys down the aisle for sure.” For whatever reason the two had held off on tying the knot, despite Finch’s proposal so long ago.

 

“You and John ever talk about it?” Shaw asked.

 

“Getting married? No. John and I are…”

 

“Just friends?” Shaw cocked an eyebrow, daring Zoe to say what she had been thinking.

 

“Not the marrying kind,” she finished.

 

“Neither was I,” Shaw reminded her.

 

* * *

 

 

Root smoothed her skirt out one last time before picking up the bouquet on the table. The deep red dahlias stood out dramatically against the pale ivory of her dress, perfectly matched to her crimson pumps.

 

A gentle knock pulled her away from the mirror and turned her attention to the door. “Ms. Pope has asked me to inform you that it’s time to begin the ceremony.” Root swung the door open wide to see Harry in his nicest suit. She could see the way his feelings flitted across his face as he took her in.

 

“Surprised?” Root asked, spinning so he could get the full effect.

 

He shook his head. “Proud,” he said. “When I think back on the person you were when we met, I could have never fathomed that a day like today could ever come to pass, or that it would mean so much to me.”

 

“Well then, may I ask you to walk me down the aisle?”

 

“It would be an honor and a privilege.” Harry offered her his arm, which she took, ignoring the fact that she towered over him in her heels, and that she could have made it to the end of the hall much quicker on her own.

 

It felt like time warped as the door opened, slowing to a near stop. In the back of her mind she recognized the small cluster of their friends, all standing to face her as she and Harold made their way to the other end of the room. She was vaguely aware of the sun beginning to dip below the tops of the buildings outside, and the way that the lamps and candles in the room made it almost unrecognizable. And then her eyes locked with Sameen’s and even the Machine seemed to have ceased existing for a moment.

 

She looked amazing. Zoe had left a few strands of hair loose, framing her face, and pulled the rest back to the nape of her neck. Her maroon dress hugged her frame in all the right places, cutting diagonally across her chest to show off one of her heavily scarred arms.

 

With a small thrill, she realized that the other woman seemed just as completely awestruck as she felt. Sameen’s eyes seemed to be drinking in every inch of her, especially the old GSW on her shoulder. After a near eternity they stopped and she paused to give Harold a quick kiss on the cheek before he joined Grace and Fusco in the front row.

 

This was it.

 

The officiant that Pope had arranged was a middle-aged man in a charcoal suit with greying blond hair. He took a moment to greet the small group and Root snuck a glance at the little assembly before her. The D.C. team had made good on their promise and Harper, Logan, and Pierce were all present, sitting in a group near Jason, Daniel, and Daizo. The front row was occupied by Zoe, John, Fusco, Harold, and Grace.

 

“Now, before we go on, I understand that you’ve written your own vows. Samantha, would you like to begin?”

 

Root took a deep breath, bracing herself to look Sameen in the eye. When she finally did, it felt like breaking the surface of a pool, like her lungs were being filled again after aching beneath the water. She reached out, taking Shaw’s hand to anchor her. In one fell swoop, everything she’d planned to say escaped her.

 

“Sameen…I used to think that I was meant to be alone. I was used to letting things go, letting people go. And then I met you. You…intrigued me, and challenged me, and eventually you made me realize that I was wrong. I wasn’t meant to be alone and I hadn’t been in a long time. You pulled me into this group, this family – our family. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late to stop it. I was in love with you, I was in love with the life we had, and when I thought I’d lost you, I was completely broken. I thought it was some sort of retribution from the universe, like karma. I was sure that my past was so tainted, so unforgiveable, that it had somehow cost me my future – you.

 

“And yet, here we are. Our _someday_ is today. It was true when we first worked together, and it’s still true now: I need you. I will always need you. And I know that I haven’t been perfect, sometimes I’m not even good, but I want to be worthy of you. So, Sameen, today I will make you a promise. I promise that I will love you faithfully and without any conditions. I promise to be patient with you when you need it, and to harass you when necessary. I promise to make the most of the times when we’re together, and make sure you have plenty of snacks when we aren’t. And above all, I promise to be your safety, your comfort, your adventure, and your home until death takes one of us for good.”

 

Root thought she heard a sniffle off to the side, but she couldn’t bring herself to look for the source of the noise. Shaw was all that mattered in this moment, and she was looking at Root with the most adorably flustered expression she had ever seen. The officiant, realizing that she was done, cleared his throat and turned to Shaw. “Sameen?” He prompted.

 

Shaw blinked for a second, apparently coming back to herself. “Oh, right! Sorry. I’m not really, uh, good at this kind of thing, and there’s no way I can top that, but…” She shook her head, then glanced around the room for a second. Root felt a little flutter in the pit of her stomach. Was Shaw _nervous_? Of course, she could get shot at day in and day out, but marriage was nerve-inducing.

 

Shaw huffed out a breath, then started over. “I never told you this, but when I was…gone, I was is a dark place – a lot of dark places, actually. Even though you weren’t there, you protected me. You were the safe place in my mind. If I focused hard enough on remembering your face, or your voice, or your laugh I could block out everything else. So, as long as I’m alive you will have someone to watch your back, wherever you go. No matter how bad things get, I promise to be your safe place.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw let her gaze linger on Root’s face for a second, trying to catalogue the way she looked in this moment, with the warm light of the sunset making her eyes pure gold. She wanted to remember this. When she was done, she gave Root a small smile before turning to the officiant so he would know he could go on.

 

“Now for the exchanging of the rings.” He turned expectantly to Shaw, who realized too late that Zoe still had them tucked away in her clutch. Zoe had clearly realized the same thing because she already had the black velvet box in her hand when Shaw turned to ask for it. She spared a quick glance around as she took it, realizing (to her horror) that the sniffling she had heard earlier was coming not only from Grace, but from their number too. She would never admit it, but she had honestly forgotten all about Pope.

 

Plucking her own ring from the box, she handed it to Root, careful not to expose the other ring to its intended recipient. “Samantha, if you’ll repeat after me. Sameen, with this ring, I thee wed.”

 

Root turned the little circlet of black titanium between her fingers as she listened, then took Shaw’s Left hand in hers and repeated the words. “Sameen, with this ring, I thee wed.”

 

The officiant turned to her, and Shaw took the cue. She plucked Root’s ring from its little nest of velvet and held it between her fingers. “Root, with this ring, I thee wed.” She was to amused by Root’s reaction to worry about her slip-up. She slipped the ring along her finger so it lined up with the other one, then watched Root admire the way the blood red garnet glistened, surrounded by a halo of white sapphires. One glance and Shaw knew she had made the right choice.

 

“Then by the power granted to me by the great state of New York, I am pleased to announce that you are officially married.”

 

Root wasn’t waiting for an invitation. As their friends looked on, she captured Shaw’s face in her hands, pulling her closer for a searing kiss. She was vaguely aware of someone whistling, but decided kissing her wife was more important than murdering them. As they finally pulled apart the realization hit her. Root was her wife. Nothing had ever seemed so monumental and so inconsequential at the same time before. It seemed to be hitting Root too because she let out a nervous giggle.

 

As the applause from their friends died down, Shaw turned to see Fusco stepping towards her. “For a sweet life together,” he said, offering Shaw a glass of champagne. She took the glass in her free hand, only realizing what it really was when she felt how heavy the honey made the champagne flute.

 

She was taken aback for a moment, not sure how to respond. “Thank you, Fusco.” Sometimes the cop still took her by surprise, thinking about the things that even she hadn’t. Fusco gave her a nod before stepping back.

 

Like nearly everyone else, Root seemed confused by the gesture. Shaw didn’t bother to explain the tradition, just removed her hand from Root’s grip and skimmed the surface of the thick liquid with her pinky finger. Carefully, she offered it to Root, who got the hint. It was a little bit obscene the way Root closed her lips around Shaw’s finger, sucking away the honey. Shaw really didn’t care.

 

When she was done, Root copied Shaw’s actions, dipping her finger in the honey and letting Shaw lick it off. The sweetness stuck to her tongue and lips. She was tempted to kiss Root again, to see if she tasted the same. _What the hell._ Root seemed surprised when she grabbed her by the waist, but delighted when Shaw leaned in for another (slightly less sultry) kiss.

 

With renewed cheers filling their ears, the two of them made their way to door at the back of the room. The officiant met them in a small office a few doors down from the conference room. When everything was signed and done, he congratulated them one last time and excused himself.

 

“So, we’re married?” It seemed like a dumb thing to say, but Shaw’s brain was feeling particularly off kilter today.

 

“Yes, Sameen. You,” Root pulled her in close, “are my wife. And I don’t think I’m ever going to get sick of saying that.”

 

“It’ll wear off eventually.”

 

“Doubtful. Oh, and I hope you were planning on a late night because it is going to take me a looong time to properly thank you for this.” She held up her hand to show off her new accessory. “It’s exquisite.”

 

Shaw was about to remind her that celebrating would have to wait until after their number had been handled, when the copier in the corner started to boot up. “What the hell?”

 

Off in the distance she could hear music coming from the conference room, but her focus was on the paper that the haunted copy machine was spitting out. Shaw flipped it over and read the single line of text.

 

MISSION COMPLETE

 

“Did She –”

 

“I think She did.” Root answered, not needing to know the rest of Shaw’s question. “She set us up.”

 

“Why?”

 

Root laughed, tossing the sheet of paper in the trash. “Like we would have done it ourselves?” She cocked her head to the side, listening to her good ear for once, instead of the Machine’s chatter. “Come on Sweetie, I think they’re playing our song.”

 

Shaw was furious, or at least she was going to be…tomorrow. For now, there were better things on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this final chapter! If you haven't already, consider checking out the companion fic to this, "Feeling with the Volume Up." For those of you who started reading this because of that fic, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed it just as much. Again, please let me know what you thought in the comment box below. All of the sweet and insightful comments I've been getting are fuel for my writing fire and I appreciate every single one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts in the comment box!


End file.
